A Profitable Venture
by Sillimaure
Summary: A young Elizabeth Bennet meets her cousin and future heir to Longbourn for the first time, and teaches him a lesson about improper behavior.


**Title: **A Profitable Venture  
**Author: **Sillimaure (Jedi Emeritus)**  
Summary: **A young Elizabeth Bennet meets her cousin and future heir to Longbourn for the first time, and teaches him a lesson about improper behavior.  
**Rating:** General  
**Disclaimer: **I do not make any money off of this story, although I would love to eventually publish a P&P novel.**  
Author's Thanks: **Thanks to Deja Vu for looking over this fic and for her suggestions.  
**Author's Notes: **The next in the series of ongoing challenges between Déjà Voldemort and myself. They have not been nearly as frequent as I had hoped, but we've both been busy. As with the last challenge, anyone is welcome to write their own response, please just remember to send one of us the link to your story so we can add it to the C2. See below for details of the challenge.

**An Unwelcome Guest**

"William Collins! William!"

As much as she enjoyed wandering through the woods and hills surrounding her home, doing so while searching for the detested person of her dull and dreary cousin was not precisely the way in which Elizabeth would normally wish to spend her afternoon. Still, it was nearing time for the family to gather for their dinner, and as her mother had commanded her to find her cousin, search for him she must.

Silently chanting words no lady should use, words which would cause her mother to faint if she even suspected Elizabeth _knew_ them, let alone used them, she continued her search through the heavy undergrowth of the wilderness behind her family home, ruing the day a certain William Collins had ever come to live with the Bennets of Longbourn.

* * *

"Mrs. Bennet, I have some news to impart to you, my dear," Mr. Bennet began one night at the family dining table.

When his wife, surprisingly, made no response, Mr. Bennet continued. "I have just received a letter, one which will interest you greatly, I believe."

The pandemonium which greeted this statement was, perhaps, not surprising—it was well known Mr. Bennet was married to a woman who, although she was a competent hostess and mother to five daughters, was not possessed of the highest of intelligence and who, furthermore, was most definitely possessed of a fanciful nervous condition, which her husband loved to exploit in the most shameless manner. It did not help that, although his two eldest daughters were proper and demure and his middle daughter quiet and already tending toward moralistic, the two youngest, aged a mere eight and ten, were most like their mother—and most apt to join in the tumult.

Once the noise had died down, Mr. Bennet spoke again into the expectant quiet. "No, Mrs. Bennet, I am not dying—at least, not to the best of my knowledge. You shall not be rid of me yet, my dear. No, my letter was from my cousin, Mr. Collins."

"Not that odious man, Mr. Bennet," his wife's shrill voice rent the air. "You have not had contact with him in many years—why should he contact you now, of all times? Can he not leave us in peace? He is the one who will be the means of forcing your poor girls out into the hedgerows, after all."

"Mrs. Bennet, I am afraid Mr. Collins will not have the pleasure of throwing anyone into the hedgerows. He is dying."

A blink of surprise was the only response from his now chagrinned wife.

"He writes to beg me to take his young son William into our family until he comes of age, as he has no other relatives with whom the poor lad can stay."

"The height of hubris, Mr. Bennet!" his wife shrieked in response. "How dare he saddle us with his loathsome spawn? Can they not leave us in peace until they eject us from our home?"

"I believe, Mrs. Bennet, I have never heard more un-Christian words issue forth from your mouth. He is a young man, as of yet, and has no other relatives with whom to live. Surely my disagreements with his father are varied and unpleasant, but can we, as good Christians, live with ourselves if we do not give succor to those less fortunate?"

"So you mean to accept him, Papa?" Elizabeth interjected, neatly preempting another torrent of words which threatened to issue forth from her mother's lips.

"Indeed I do, Lizzy," her father confirmed. "Although I have nothing good to say regarding my cousin, I have nothing to hold against the son. He _is_ my heir, after all, and if I mean to see Longbourn prosper after my death, an event to which your mother so often kindly refers, then it behooves me to train my successor to the best of my ability. Besides, Mrs. Bennet, it would seem to me you had best place young Master Collins on your side if you wish to avoid the hedgerows of which you seem so deathly afraid."

_ That_ statement, more than any other, pierced the fog of Mrs. Bennet's understanding, causing her silence for the rest of the meal. Elizabeth, knowing her mother's fears, could only conjecture that her mother had begun planning for one of them to marry the young man—a man with whom none of them had as yet formed an acquaintance. After all, from her mother's prospective, it was the marriage which was important, not the groom.

* * *

Stalking down the pathway in high dudgeon, Elizabeth remembered the conversation which, as her father had stated, had turned the lives of the entire Bennet family upside-down. As predicted, no more than two months after the arrival of the fateful letter, word arrived that Mr. Collins had passed away from this mortal plane, leaving his only son parentless and alone. Her father had attended the funeral, returning with the future master of Longbourn in tow.

The old Mr. Collins had been a miserly, mean, and ham-fisted man, illiterate and cruel, particularly where it concerned his son. Although Mr. Bennet had never illuminated her regarding the true nature of their disagreements, he had made it clear to her he expected little of worth from his cousin's son, considering the atmosphere in which he had been raised—a situation which was confirmed by the sharp young woman within a half hour of her actually becoming acquainted with him. To say young Elizabeth Bennet was unimpressed with said future master was equivalent to stating Buckingham Palace was the meanest hovel in the kingdom. He was dull and stupid and possessed of a highly sycophantic nature, likely an unconscious protection against his father's abuses.

At first Elizabeth had felt sorry for the young man. Acquainted as she was with her own mother's sometimes strident disapproval of her, Elizabeth felt she could commiserate in some small measure with William's pathetic situation. As for her sisters, Jane, being incapable of truly thinking ill of another, was polite to the young man but avoided his irksome presence as much as possible, while Lydia and Kitty found him tiresome and avoided him as well. Only Mary seemed to find his society at all welcome, as he was possessed of a similar turn of mind. Of course, _two_ moralizing snobbish persons in the house did nothing to endear either of them to the other occupants.

Mr. Bennet had tried gamely to make something of the unfortunate young man, taking him under his wing and educating him in the proper management of the estate, at least to the best of his ability. Not known for his own adherence to the strict running of his estate, Mr. Bennet, a bibliophile of the first order, was much more comfortable in his own bookroom than out supervising the planting of the fields or managing the mending of a fence, so his own skills must be considered somewhat suspect.

Still, he exerted himself for a change to teach his young charge so the estate, which had been in the family for generations, should not suffer once he was gone. Unfortunately, not knowing the young Master Collins previously Mr. Bennet could not have predicted that the young man, although raised by a man who would belittle as soon as praise, had nevertheless been regaled with tales from his infamous sire of how exactly Mr. Bennet was going about his duties in a wrong manner. Of course, as beaten down and cowed as he was before his father, Mr. Collins was convinced that his father was always right and that once he came into the inheritance of Longbourn, if he were only to do the exact opposite of his cousin, he could surely do no wrong. It never occurred to the small-minded young man that his father, a man who had never risen beyond the level of a servant his whole life, could not be expected to understand the operation of even a modest estate such as Longbourn. Nothing Mr. Bennet said could convince William he did not know better than Mr. Bennet, a man, for all his faults, who had successfully run the estate for the past twenty years. Needless to say, it did not take Mr. Bennet long before his cousin was cut adrift to spend his days as he chose, reading the Bible and his moralistic sermons in preparation for his enrollment into the seminary, which he planned to do once he came of age, with the small inheritance left by his father. That Mr. Bennet had offered to supplement him if he found that inheritance to be insufficient was testament to his desire to wash his hands of the young man.

For Mrs. Bennet, his heavyset, ill-favored features and vacuous platitudes notwithstanding, his position as future lord of the manor outweighed all other considerations—he was clearly meant to be her future son-in-law, thus saving the entire family and allowing them to continue to live in their home. Jane, of course, was too beautiful and sweet and clearly destined for a lord; otherwise, Elizabeth felt certain she would be pushed in Mr. Collins' way, a situation which would not be beneficial to anyone due to Jane's suspected inability to say 'no' to her mother.

Elizabeth herself was much too improper and impertinent, what with her insistence on traipsing all over the countryside ruining her eligibility on the marriage market—after all, who would want to marry a girl who was outspoken, wild, and clearly not the equal of Jane in beauty? Of course, it must be noted that Elizabeth was unperturbed by her own ineligibility for the position of wife to a dullard.

This left Marry, who, as Mrs. Bennet herself so condescendingly stated: "If she enjoys his company and he enjoys hers, why then, they make a perfect match." Many young people, upon entering the marriage state, could not hope for equal felicity in marriage. So, it was settled, in her own mind, at least, that Mary would be the one who would save the family and do her duty by marrying Mr. William Collins. The fact that Mary was only eleven years of age did nothing to hinder Mrs. Bennet's fantasies.

Of course, what escaped the admittedly obtuse gaze of the Bennet matriarch was that William Collins seemed to have his eye on a much greater prize…

* * *

Through the bushes, Elizabeth saw a movement, and stopping, she peered through the branches and saw the young man for whom she had been searching. Young Master Collins sat on a small bench with his back to her in one of the thickest parts of the wilderness. In his hand, he clenched a small handkerchief, white with red hearts embroidered about the edge, and trimmed in lace. He was currently holding it to his face to inhale the sweet fragrance of scented water which Elizabeth was certain was sprinkled onto its surface. The sight made Elizabeth grin in triumph.

* * *

"Cousin Elizabeth, may I have a moment of your time?"

Elizabeth looked up from her embroidery, slightly annoyed at her cousin for interrupting her concentration. Then again, the flowers which she had been painstakingly sewing into her sampler were looking decidedly lopsided—a s usual—and she decided the interruption was not as dire as it could have been. Of course, such unusual contentment could not remain for long, as there was no one whose company she found as tiresome as that of her cousin.

"I suspect I shall regret this…" Elizabeth murmured, as she motioned for him to continue.

Her cousin, of course, was completely oblivious to her softly spoken words and her complete aversion to his company.

"I… I mean to ask you… that is to say…" he began, stammering, mangling the English language in his attempt to speak whatever concern occupied the whole of his vacuous mind. Elizabeth gazed up at him, quite amused—it was not often a young man of seventeen found himself tongue-tied in the presence of a young girl of twelve.

"Yes, William?" she replied, waiting patiently for him to arrive at his point. "May I help you?"

With those words, he seemed to gain his confidence. "Yes, quite, Cousin Elizabeth. You are indeed to be commended for your gracious condescension in assisting my humble endeavors. If I, in my chosen profession, were to ever have the patronage of a patron as gracious and wise as yourself, I should consider myself quite fortunate indeed."

By this time, whatever goodwill Elizabeth had held for the bumbling young man had all been used up by his nonsensical and long-winded speech, none of which made much sense to the young girl. It seemed the height of foolishness to endow a child of twelve with the wisdom which he had just attributed to herself.

"I'm sorry, Cousin, but you were saying?"

"Ah, yes, indeed," he happily replied after blinking momentarily in confusion. "Right to the point, as my late, esteemed father would say."

Privately, Elizabeth doubted that his father could come up with anything so intelligent, given the stories from her father coupled with the specimen which was currently facing her. Rather than test his limited intellect, she instead inclined her head, urging him to continue, praying this interminable interview would end.

"I was hoping… you could offer your… advice… yes, that's it, advice—on a matter of some importance. Indeed, it is a matter dear to my heart, which I was hoping—praying actually—that you would condescend to… offer your opinion. If it please you."

Convoluted as his rambling discourse was, Elizabeth felt she had been able to catch its meaning—if any such existed. It was clear he wanted her advice on something, although why he would come to the aforementioned girl of twelve summers she could not say. The subject of what exactly he wished to hear her opinion was still a matter of conjecture.

"Yes, Cousin? You have something you wished to ask me?"

"Yes, indeed I do. Considering our connection and my position as heir to this property, and given the fact that matter is of some importance, being the… companion of my future life. As it were, it appears I have the very great fortune of being in the position of being of some use to your family. As such, I wondered if you could tell me… perhaps you could give me some advice… as to how to approach your sister."

This last came out in a rush, causing Elizabeth's jaw to fall open—this clod of a man was actually asking her for instructions on how to woo her own sister! Suppressing the laughter which threatened to bubble up and escape her throat, Elizabeth smiled serenely at her cousin.

"Well, Cousin, I believe it is appropriate to wait until the subject of your affections is at least out in society, which, as my sister is only eleven, cannot happen for several more years. Besides, you spend much of your time with Mary—surely you have come to know her sufficiently well enough that you do not need to ask me of her."

William Collins' face resembled that of a fish, but he gamely gathered himself and uttered the fateful words. "My dearest, naïve Cousin Elizabeth. It is not your sister Mary of whom I speak—on the contrary, I wish to pay my addresses to your sister Jane. After all, is she not the most beautiful, the eldest, and the most eligible of all your sisters? No offense to you, but she shines above you all, a jewel which I think would bring much grace and beauty to the life of a pastor who has the very great fortune of being the heir to this fine estate."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed in fury; perhaps it could not be a surprise to note that the interview rapidly deteriorated and ultimately ended soon thereafter.

* * *

Looking at his back now, Elizabeth recalled those months—William Collins' dogged pursuit of the affections of his cousin, Jane's slightly wide-eyed countenance and green complexion whenever her amorous suitor was nearby, her mother's lament that this was _not_ how it was supposed to be.

It had finally taken her father emerging from his bookroom to tell their cousin in no uncertain terms that Jane was _not_ out yet, that she would _not_ be forced to marry as soon as she came out, and that his attentions were _not_ welcome at this time. He was instructed to cease his clumsy attempts to woo Jane and behave more in the way that a proper young man in line to inherit an estate would be expected by society.

Of course, to Elizabeth's chagrin, this merely served to cement in his mind the fact that his young cousin was positively the most brilliant and wise twelve-year-old of his acquaintance. After all, hadn't she told him he would not be able to court his cousin until after she was out? The fact that he had been talking of one cousin, while she had been speaking of another, was of no consequence.

Shaking her head of these thoughts, Elizabeth called out to her cousin once again.

"William!"

Surprised at the sudden noise behind him, William stood in a hurry, almost catching his foot on a root at his feet, and then catching his balance while trying to shove the handkerchief into his pocket at the same time. The effect was diverting in the extreme, but he managed to do it without dumping himself unceremoniously on the ground.

"Yes, Cousin Elizabeth?"

"Dinner, cousin. You are wanted in the dining room, as Mama informed me that dinner was about to be served."

"My thanks," he responded, beaming. "Shall we adjourn to the dining room then?"

Although being escorted anywhere by William Collins was not exactly high on her list of priorities, Elizabeth nevertheless agreed and soon was walking along the pathway toward her home, her cousin chattering happily away.

* * *

A few moments later, the family had gathered around the dining room table for their evening repast. For once, Mr. Collins was silent. Unnoticed by anyone else at their table, his face was flushed and becoming redder by the moment, and his hands were increasingly being raised to rub his face as surreptitiously as he possibly could. Within minutes, however, he was openly scratching his face with both hands, as angry welts were appearing all over his face and hands.

Predictably, Mrs. Bennet screamed, Mr. Bennet raised and eyebrow, Jane looked on in pity, Mary voiced some pithy platitude, and the two youngest Bennets merely looked on with curiosity and disgust. Elizabeth continued to sip on her soup, her eyes dancing merrily away as she ignored her detested cousin's distress.

Eventually he was led away from the table to his room, where the apothecary was summoned to attend him.

Thinking back on the previous weeks, Elizabeth smiled to herself with satisfaction. Her dearest sister Jane had made her aware of certain items of hers which had gone missing, never anything important—a sampler which she had recently finished, some small trinkets she had owned, a pair of gloves. Nothing of value, unless a personal attachment to one's own property were to be considered.

The clever and ever-watchful Elizabeth had set about watching with keen eyes and a suspicious stare and had deduced, correctly it appeared, that William Collins, deciding that if he could not pay his addresses yet, figured he could at least hold some measure of his (imagined) beloved by absconding with some of her personal property.

Deciding to teach him a lesson, it had been a simple matter to take a recently completed handkerchief. A short walk and a rather fine specimen of poison ivy later, and she had held a now quite contaminated piece of fabric in her carefully gloved hands, making certain it did not touch any exposed part of her body. It had then been a simple matter to drop it during a walk about the grounds with Jane, making it appear as though Jane had dropped her new handkerchief herself.

Although she could not count William Collins among the most clever of her acquaintances, Elizabeth hoped he would learn his lesson and cease rifling through the possessions of his disinterested cousin.

The apothecary's diagnosis was quite accurate, and he ordered all of young William's possessions to be immediately and thoroughly laundered to remove the taint of the unforgiving plant. And although Mr. Bennet wore a look of suspicion on his face toward his second daughter, either he decided he had no proof of her complicity, or his own mirth at the situation won out.

Either way, Elizabeth felt it was a profitable venture in the end. After all, for a few days at least, the Bennets were spared the society of their unwanted and irksome guest.

**The End**

**Fandom: **Pride and Prejudice**  
Character Requirement: **Elizabeth Bennet  
**Age Requirement:** None.**  
AU Allowed?: **Yes.**  
Quote Requirement:** "I have a bad feeling about this…" –or– "I'm going to regret this."  
**Object Requirement: **A handkerchief.  
**Romance Requirement: **None.**  
Required Scenario: **One of the characters of Pride and Prejudice gets into some mischief.  
**Word Limit: **3,000 words.  
**Extra Notes: **This can work as a sort of warm-up challenge for someone who hasn't written any Jane Austen before—or who has written very little.


End file.
